


Asleep and Awake

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since their surgeries, they’ve been prone to illness. A peak into an old routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asleep and Awake

When Grif didn’t show up to practice, Simmons wasn’t worried.

It’s not out of the ordinary, Grif slacking duties. The man avoided running drills better than actually doing them. So when the Captains squads were down one leader, Simmons didn’t bother to try to call for his comrade, instead picking up Grif’s squad in his absence. He’d waste more time trying to force Grif to show up than just running the drills himself.

When Grif didn’t show up for lunch, however, Simmons knew something was wrong.

Simmons knocked on the door of their shared room, using his robotic hand to make a better echo. He was still entirely in armor, the helmet clasps secured still to his suit. It wasn’t comfortable, the suit never was, but taking it off would showcase his worried expression to the entire base and Simmons didn’t want to alarm the troops with his shit poker face. He adjusted the bag he’d gotten from Dr. Grey over his shoulder before speaking up.

“Grif, I’m coming in.”

“No.” The response was immediate, confirming Simmons’ suspicious. So he was sick. It was the only reason Grif would bother keeping him away; since their surgeries, both of their immune systems were utter shit. Simmons reached for the doorknob anyway.

“I’m in armor. I’m not going to catch whatever you got.”

“No, you will.” Simmons couldn’t tell if Grif’s voice was muffled from whatever bug he caught or from the door blocking his voice. “And then you’re gonna get all sick and bitchy, and I’ll end up having to carry your ass to medical.”

“Like you’d bother to carry me anywhere.” With that Simmons opened the door. Their shared room was rather tiny, just two beds for the respective captains, but it was better than sharing the same space with twice the amount of men. Grif was on his own cot, blankets curled around his form. He was bent over, turned towards the wall so Simmons couldn’t see his face. He was shivering.

Simmons felt a quick stab of guilt. How had he not noticed this in the morning? They lived out of each others hands and he’d missed Grif being this miserable. Some friend he was.

Well friend wasn’t exactly accurate. You didn’t kiss friends, you didn’t fuck friends, you didn’t think about marrying your friends when gunfire had settled. But Simmons didn’t really want to dwell on labels now. There were more important things to do.

He walked up to Grif’s cot and plopped down on the edge, placing the bag next to him. Grif rolled over to glare at him. His eyes looked a little glassy. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I thought I told you to stay-” He didn’t get to finish before Simmons stuck a thermometer in his mouth. After his initial surprise, Grif pouted but let Simmons wait long enough to take his temperature. When the thermometer beeped, Simmons pulled it out to look at it. 101 degrees. Not terrible. But it wasn’t great either.

“You got a fever,” Simmons muttered, placing the thermometer back in his bag and taking out some fever reducers. He dropped a few into his palm.

“No shit, kissass.” There was no bite in Grif’s words. He sounded worn out. It didn’t ease Simmons fears. Simmons pressed the medication into Grif’s palm before reaching over to Grif’s glass of water.

“Take these.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Nurse,” Grif muttered, but he did as he was told, swallowing all of the pills at once. Simmons got off the bed.

“Get some rest. Let me know if you feel worse. If that temperature climbs, I’m taking you to Dr. Grey.”

“You wouldn’t be able too.”

For a second, Simmons wished Grif could see his face. It always made teasing him more fun. “Fine. I’m having Sarge take you to Dr. Grey.”  
Grif sunk down into his pillows. “I hate you.”

Simmons turned on his heel. He almost took a step forward before he felt a hand on his wrist. He looked over his shoulder.

“What?”

Grif wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was firmly plastered to the wall across the room. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid looking Simmons in the face.

“You got to go right now?”

Simmons felt a mix of confusion and dread tumble through his stomach. Grif never wanted him to stay when he was sick. He was always too grumpy, or too worried about Simmons getting sick himself which lead into the grumpiness. Was he worse off than he looked or something? Grif cleared his throat.

“I’m getting fever dreams. Stupid shit mostly, but there’s….” Grif cut off. “Forget it.”

Simmons stared at Grif for a second. He almost never talked about his nightmares. They all had them, they were soldiers, but while Grif woke up screaming as much as the rest of them, he never shared what they were about. Even to Simmons who’d spent ten minutes sobbing into Grif’s chest over another Sidewinder nightmare. For Grif to open up like this? He had to be rattled.

Simmons didn’t say anything, just walking over to their shared desk to grab one of their chairs. He moved it over next to Grif’s bedside and sat down, letting the creak of the chair legs fill the silence.

“Eh, Sarge wants to talk plans. I think I can suffer hanging out here instead.”

If Grif was thankful for the offer, he didn’t show it. Instead he just laid back down flat on his pillows, eyes beginning to close shut. Simmons got up once to shut off the lights before sitting back down. Grif was almost asleep. When he spoke, it was so quiet Simmons almost didn’t hear it.

“Thanks, Dick.”

There in the darkness of the room, Grif fell into a fitful sleep as Simmons stood guard, the echo of his name ringing in his ears.


End file.
